I recently had the opportunity to interview the owner of Petitgrain Boulangerie, Clémence de Lutz.
That title may be accurate — Clémence does own the bakery — but it feels too limited: Clémence founded the shop and created all the recipes. She oversees a passionate, dedicated staff that seems almost like a family. She designed the meticulous system on which the bakery runs. And she’s a popular figure in the community.
What title could possibly encompass these roles?
Entrepreneur? Pastry chef? Matriarch? Artisan?
All of those apply.
But maybe the best job description for Clémence is magician.
Indeed, in talking with her, I discovered something remarkable: running a bakery that serves exceptional pastries is basically like a magic ability.
When someone creates truly delicious baked goods, there’s seemingly nothing they can’t do.
Case in point: my interview with Clémence took place on the rustic wooden bench outside the storefront.
As I was starting to ask my first question, Clémence suddenly exclaimed, “Hey! That’s my car!”
Across Wilshire Boulevard, a parking enforcement officer was ticketing her sedan. (The meter had expired.) Clémence excused herself, hurried over, and managed to talk herself out of the ticket.
Add another job title to her resume: escape artist.
Later, when the officer made his way to our side of the street, Clémence thanked him and offered him a pastry. (He declined, citing his “girlish figure.”)
This episode seemed just another perfectly natural moment in Clémence’s day.
A Striking First Impression
Located at Wilshire and Euclid in Santa Monica, Petitgrain Boulangerie greets visitors with the aroma of baking in progress.
Before we sat down to the interview, Clémence gave me a fresh pain aux raisin. The pastry was a sight to behold: golden-brown spirals of pastry coiled around plump raisins. It was sculptural.
And the taste was amazing: flaky, buttery with a hint of sweetness.
I’m usually able to concentrate, but the pain aux raisin made it tough to focus on the interview questions I had prepared.
Our interview was further punctuated by passersby. As we talked, people on the sidewalk kept greeting Clémence happily. A young boy begged his mom to “take a break” and go into the shop. The woman didn’t need much persuading. She shrugged and followed her son in.
Precision and Passion
Clémence gave me a tour of the space, and I was struck by the bakery’s detailed system. Everything follows a precise schedule — of Clémence’s devising — with no room for errors or shortcuts.
The baking process begins at one in the morning, she told me: mixing, resting, laminating. All pastries are shaped by 5:00. The baking itself doesn’t start until 6:15 in order to ensure that everything is perfectly fresh when the shop’s doors open at 8:00.
Despite having a relatively small kitchen — with room for only two small mixers — Clémence and her team produce extraordinary results.
She’s committed to local ingredients, noting that she’s been buying from the downtown Santa Monica Farmer’s Market for over twenty-five years. “We’ve hardly been affected by tariffs at all,” she said. “Everything is sourced nearby.” The berries that brighten her pastries come straight from the market.
This dedication to quality hasn’t gone unnoticed. Petitgrain was featured in the New York Times shortly after opening — an experience Clémence described as “a bit overwhelming.” (The writer from the Times marveled that the bakery’s plain croissant was “somehow” both crisp and soft — and then proceeded to fantasize about moving closer to the shop.)
Craft and Connection
The bakery presents a fascinating contrast. On one hand, it runs on the rigorous system developed through Clémence’s extensive baking experience. On the other, the bakery overflows with warmth and humanity.
Clémence’s daughter serves as the morning baker, highlighting the family connection that extends to the entire operation. The staff works with a natural, effortless coordination that speaks of both careful training and genuine camaraderie. Clémence takes pride in having created a positive workplace — and she quietly mentioned that one of her commitments is providing a livable wage for her staff.
Corporate Escape Artist
In researching Clémence, I found a bio of her that began with: “Clémence is a great lover of sweets” — a description she wholeheartedly embraces.
“I really do love them,” she confessed. “I could never do without sugar. I don’t think I could try.”
Clémence’s family is from France, but spent years on the East Coast.
She initially made her way to Los Angeles to work for Miramax, but the corporate job left her unfulfilled. She found herself selling homemade cookies to coworkers from her cubicle. (This side hustle soon led to a parting of ways with the company.)
After we finished our pastries and our chat, Clémence stood up. She had been at the bakery almost thirteen hours at that point.
“Are you finally headed home?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. “Easter is coming. I have to make some hot cross buns!”
As I watched her return to her kitchen, I realized again that I had been witnessing something special. At two in the afternoon, Clémence is still baking. People were arriving at the shop, hoping some pastries were still available. More kids were pulling more parents into the bakery.
In a town that can sometimes get caught up in fads, Clémence has created something timeless: a place where beautiful delicious pastries can be reliably found — and can be reliably found making people happy. It is magic.
